Life In Bailey Downs
by Chirugal
Summary: As she waits for Ginger to return from her date with Jason, Brigitte does some thinking...


LIFE IN BAILEY DOWNS__

By Numair's Daine

**Rating**: R for reflections on self-harm and suicide.

**Author's Note**: This is set just before Ginger returns from her date with Jason.

**Disclaimer**: The characters and settings are all John Fawcett's. *sigh* God, I wish I was a genius…

**Summary**: As she waits for Ginger to return from her date with Jason, Brigette does some thinking…

***

Miserably, Brigitte Fitzgerald sat alone on her bed, curled up as small as possible. _What's Ginger doing right now?_ she thought to herself, wistfully. She imagined her older sister, her idol since childhood, off having fun without her. Then the naturally cynical side of her crept out and her mouth twisted into something that was half-smile, half-grimace. _Do I even want to _know _what she's doing? With McCarty, no less?_

With a sigh, Brigitte threw herself backwards on the bed and turned onto her side. Her eyes fell on the photographs and scrawled suicide notes taped up on the walls, and the fifteen year old outcast smiled despite herself. They'd had such fun making that death project. It had been totally original, and totally genius. Sure, they'd gotten into shit for it on the day they presented it, but it had been worth it.

Ginger had thought of the original idea – no surprise there, then – but once persuaded, Brigitte had found her chance to shine. Her imagination was way overactive, and in the seven-or-so years since the sisters had made "The Pact" she had thought carefully over different ways that one could commit suicide, coming to the conclusion that she didn't want to die in any of those ways. Of course, Ginger never listened to anything she didn't agree with, and completely ignored her. Brigitte figured she may as well put her morbid mind to good use, and the scenes they had come up with were perfect. Hanging. Slitting wrists. Overdoses on medication, or drinking bleach. Drowning, deadly falls down stairs, being hit by cars or impaled by picket fences, even deadly brushes with killer pitchforks or lawnmowers.

The real irony was that the project had been entitled "Life in Bailey Downs". From the Fitzgerald sisters' point of view, the subject matter had perfectly fitted the title. In this place, you may as well kill yourself, because there's no way anything else exciting will ever happen to you. At least, that's what they had thought.

Since "the beast of Bailey Downs" had attacked Ginger, Brigitte's beloved sister hadn't been the same. Brigitte didn't know whether it was some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder or just PMS, but one thing she did know: Ginger was turning into what she most despised. A fashion-conscious, boy-crazy hormonal drone without an original thought in her head. Worst of all, she had no time for Little Sis. Earlier that day, she had snubbed Brigitte in front of her new boyfriend and a nearby group of popular students who had cackled like hyenas the whole time. At the memory, Brigitte winced, screwed up her eyes and reached out to turn off the light, crawling under the bedcovers as if to hide from the images in her brain.

It was one of those times when she wanted, needed, to cry, but she couldn't. When Ginger got that way, she cut herself, sliced into her flesh with a kitchen knife. She had once told Brigitte the physical pain distracted her from the emotional pain, and encouraged her to try it. But however perverse Brigitte's brain, she refused to experiment with a knife. Instead, she thought of Sam, the local drug dealer who had hit the werewolf – if that's what it was – with his van, saving the sisters' lives. He had given her a silver earring to pierce Ginger with… but the way Ginger was behaving at the moment, Brigitte didn't fancy her chances at getting the redhead's cooperation.

Sam was nice, though. He understood. _But I am _not_ getting all cow-eyed over Sam,_ Brigitte told herself firmly. _That would make me as bad as Ginger._

After a while, she began to slip off to sleep, only to be brought back from the brink by the sound of the door opening and shutting quietly. Yawning her way back to awareness, Brigitte turned over as Ginger sank onto her own bed beside her sister's and just… sat. After a second, Brigitte was horrified to hear a muffled sob.

"Ginge? What happened?" Ginger remained silent, but her silhouette shook with sobs. "Did he hurt you?" More silence. "If he hurt you, you should tell…" she pressed, concerned. A wave of protective sympathy for her sibling washing over her, Brigitte reached out for Ginger's hand. The moment their skin met, the elder girl wrenched her arm away and ran for the bathroom.

Anxiously, Brigitte stretched up and pulled the string to turn on the light. As she brought her hand back to her side she noticed that it was wet and darkly stained. Unable to believe her eyes, she stared at the blood covering her fingertips in disbelief. _Oh, fuck…_

When she got to the bathroom, Ginger was crouched before the toilet, throwing up copiously. Numbly, Brigitte took in the gore around her face and hands. "What happened?" she cried, ignoring her sister's plea for her to get out.

Between retches, Ginger managed to stammer out, "Something is really wrong with me, B…" She tried to compose herself before continuing, "I get this ache… I thought it was for sex, but it's to tear everything to fucking pieces…" At the recollection, she bent over the bowl again and painfully disgorged more bloody vomit.

_Oh, god…_ Brigitte's eyes widened as she jumped to a conclusion. _She got Jason… she really is a werewolf… oh, shit…_ Outwardly, she tried to remain calm for her sibling's sake. "Where is he?"

Quiet dread in her voice, Ginger met Brigitte's eyes. "Next door."

***

Outside, Ginger gestured weakly over the fence and sank into the grass as her legs gave out. Steeling herself, Brigitte peeped over the fence and located the ravaged corpse of next door's dog. Although she knew it was completely inappropriate, she let herself feel some small measure of relief as she gasped out, "Oh my god. You killed _Norman_."

But as she turned back towards Ginger, Brigitte knew she'd have to come up with a way to cure Ginger before she degenerated even further. And she'd have to do it _fast_.

**Review? Please? *puppy dog eyes***


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